Coffee and Toast, Arlyn LaBelle

 

As I am falling asleep, for a moment, I think about work but it is different, like, instead of writing letters to judges I am writing letters to an angel that handles these sorts of things. The angel is slow to get back to me and sometimes he never does, and I think, angel, shouldn’t you be on the ball or something? But it is true that there are a lot of people to look after, and in the emails the angel sends, he always seems so tired. He puts things like, “You know I can’t work with this,” and “Another one?” and his responses keep getting shorter and shorter. One day the angel sends me a picture of some coffee and toast. No explanation attached, no subject line. It kind of shakes me up, like, is that what I’m keeping you from with all these people who need help? Your coffee and toast? And I save the picture for some reason, though don’t ask me why.

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